at a tremendous rate, and two years later attained his full height of six feet and four inches. He was long, wiry and strong; while his big feet and hands, and the length of his legs and arms, were out of all proportion to his small trunk and head. His complexion was very swarthy, and his skin was shrivelled and yellow even then. He wore low shoes, buckskin breeches, linsey-woolsey shirt and a cap made of the skin of an opossum or coon. The breeches clung close to his thighs and legs and failed by a large space to meet the tops of his shoes. Twelve inches remained uncovered, and exposed that much of shinbone, sharp, blue and narrow."

He soon acquired an insatiable thirst for knowledge, although at first it required considerable persuasion to induce him to attend to the intellectual tasks set before him. There was no book in the house save the Bible, but this he never tired of reading, until his familiarity with it became remarkable. He used, frequently, in after-life to quote from it in his conversation and speeches, and the simplicity and clearness of his literary style was largely produced by his study of its matchless diction.

There were a few books of standard merit possessed by the different families in the neighborhood all of which he borrowed and read many times. Among them were Weem's "Life of Washington," "Esop's Fables," "Robinson Crusoe," ""Arabian Nights and the "Speeches of Henry Clay." He dearly loved to stretch himself out on the grass beneath the shadow of some great tree and pore over his book. During the long evenings he would lie at full length on the floor beside the great fireplace and read until the fire

went out. He was accustomed to write out with charcoal on bits of board the passages, which struck him most forcibly, and afterwards to commit them to memory.

He became intensely interested in the speeches of Henry Clay, many of which he committed to memory. His father was a Democrat and he had naturally inclined in that direction, but now he became an ardent admirer of the Kentucky statesman and a determined and persistent Whig, remaining of that political belief until he became one of the leaders of the young Republican party.

While on his way to Washington, in later years, to assume the duties of the Presidency, he passed through Trenton, N. J., and, in a speech before the State Senate, made the following allusion to the deep impression, which one of these books had made upon him :

"May I be pardoned if, on this occasion, I mention that, away back in my childhood, in the earliest days of my being able to read, I got hold of a small book, such an one as few of the younger members have seen, Weem's 'Life of Washington.' I remember all the accounts there given of the battle-fields and struggles for the liberties of the country; and none fixed themselves upon my imagination so deeply as the struggle here at Trenton. The crossing of the river, the struggle with the Hessians, the great hardships endured at that time, all fixed themselves in my memory more than any other single Revolutionary event, and you all know, for you have all been boys, how these early impressions last longer than any others. I recollect thinking then, boy even though I

was, that there must have been something more than common that these men struggled for. I am exceedingly anxious that that thing which they struggled for, that something even more than national independence, that something that held out a great promise to all people of the world for all time to come, I am exceedingly anxious that this Union, the Constitution and liberties of the people, shall be perpetuated in accordance with the original idea for which that struggle was made."

This same "Life of Washington' was the first book which he ever owned. He acquired possession of it, however, in a manner not wholly satisfactory to himself. He had borrowed it from a neighbor, named Crawford, who was not noted for his generosity. One night Lincoln took it to bed with him and continued to read until his pin、 knot lamp burned out, when he thrust the book into a crevice between the logs in the side of the house. During the night a severe storm came up and the book was soaked. He went to Mr. Crawford in the morning, and telling him of the mishap, offered to pay for the book. Crawford set him to work pulling cornfodder, and kept him at it for three days, making the young student pay an extortionate price in labor for an old and worn-out book. Young Lincoln was much dissatisfied with such parsimony, and afterwards unconsciously following the example of an old Greek poet, wrote several bits of doggerel verse, in which he ridiculed so forcibly the personal appearance of Crawford, that his flat nose and scowling visage became a byword throughout the whole community.

When he was ten years old his mother died after a

long and distressing illness. During her sickness he cared for her as tenderly as a girl, and often sat at her side and read the Bible to her for hours. The dying mother gave him much loving advice, which he stored up in his memory as a precious legacy, and over which he pondered deeply. Her loss must have been severely felt by the household in the long winter which followed. The burden of the household duties fell upon Sarah, who was hardly yet in her teens, but was developing into a quiet, useful woman.

There was no minister in the vicinity at the time of Mrs. Lincoln's death, and she was buried in the grove near the house without ceremonies, beyond one or two simple prayers from the neighbors. A few months afterwards an itinerant preacher, Elder Elkin, was invited by a letter composed and written with laborious care by young Lincoln, to come and perform the simple funeral services then in vogue.

It was a clear and beautiful day when the neighbors, to the number of about two hundred, gathered in the little grove to take part in the services. The minister, a plain and simple man, was much affected by the circumstances and surroundings, and spoke with a rude eloquence that moved every heart and made a deep impression, especially upon the two motherless children. He spoke tenderly of the patient Christian character of the deceased, and commemorated her many virtues with touching words, commending her example for the emulation of all.

Mrs. Lincoln's life had been a dull and hard one, a daily routine of care and trouble, yet she had made a deep impression upon the character of her son, and in after-life his mind often reverted to the lonely grave

by the Ohio, with love and reverence. Long afterwards, when the forest flowers had bloomed above her grave for two score years, he said to a friend, with tears in his eyes: "All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel mother-blessings on her memory."

In the autumn of the same year, Mr. Lincoln returned to his old home in Kentucky, and married a widow lady, who had been one of his youthful sweethearts. He represented himself to be a well-to-do farmer with considerable property, and the new Mrs. Lincoln was much disappointed at the state of affairs which she found at her journey's end. But like the true woman that she was, she determined to make the best of what she could not help. She brought with her a large load of furniture, which the children regarded with amazement for nothing so grand had ever been seen in the neighborhood before, and for the first time in his life Abe rejoiced in a warm comfortable bed. With Mrs. Lincoln came her own three children, but she showed no partiality to them, and the two motherless children soon learned to regard her with warm affection. In speaking of her stepson she once said: “Abe never gave me a cross word or look, and never refused, in fact or appearance, to do all I requested of him."

A new era was inaugurated in the cheerless cabin by her arrival. Floors were laid, a door was hung, windows were fitted into the open spaces in the walls, and a new spirit of order and progress pervaded the domestic economy. She not only strove to improve the material condition of the household, but also determined to give the children better opportunities to secure at least the rudiments of an education.